Six Drabbles
by JacksBoonie
Summary: Slash:Six short drabbles They found Starsky's body on a Monday morning : Hutch doesn't have a sister : Where does partner end and lover begin : They're drunk, but not enough : Huggy wishes they would notice soon : A word is worth a thousand pictures.


AN: My first (and probably only) delve into the Starsky and Hutch fandom. My mom loves this show, and spent all summer getting me hooked on it. I still have yet to see the movie (I don't know, I think it would just ruin the show for me). So, without further ado, I give you six drabbles that I wrote during an overnight shift to keep myself busy. :) Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own the television show _Starsky and Hutch_. I do not own the characters of the television show _Starsky and Hutch_.

_September Morn_

They found Starsky's body on a Monday morning in September. It was floating amidst a weekend's worth of litter -- paper cups, beer cans, half-full tubes of sunscreen -- and tangled in long-forgotten lengths of rubbery kelp. Hutch's heart stopped the moment he recognized a ratty patch of dark curls poking through the mess. He was the first one into the water, the first to thrust himself through the polluted muck, the first to cradle his lifeless friend to his chest. And the first tears that fell for the death of David Starsky came from the distraught blue eyes of Kenneth Hutchinson.

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_Hutch's Sister_

If anyone had ever asked Starsky if he had met Hutch's sister, he would have smirked and lazily tipped his chair back with his fingers linked behind his head.

"Hutch doesn't have a sister," he would reply, because Hutch is his partner and would have mentioned a sister if he had one. So on the day of Hutch's funeral, when a frail, blonde-haired woman in a wheelchair approached the casket and held the lifeless man's hand in her own for a short while, Starsky, immersed in the loss of his one and only best friend, thought nothing of it.

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_Partners_

When Starsky calls Hutch his partner, he means just that. A partner. A best friend. A man he has seen go through the best and the worst and vice versa. A person he would take a bullet for, bleed for, _die_ for. They have both looked death in the face and come out on the other side clean. They're brothers. Sometimes more than that. But where does _partner_ end and _lover_ begin? Because when Hutch is hurt or scared or sobbing with anguish, Starsky throws the word _partner_ out the window and holds the man as tightly as he can.

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_Drunk_

They're drunk, but not enough. They could be drunker, and Huggy Bear agrees, because he keeps feeding them beers like there's no tomorrow. Probably hopes he'll get them so drunk they won't know a fifty from a one, and he'll score a hefty tip. Starsky's looking at Hutch kind of funny, and the blonde asks him why. If the curly-haired brunette were a bit drunker, he'd say that he'd like to kiss the lips he's been eyeing all night, and Hutch would glance around the empty bar, squinting, and ask, "Which lips would those be?" And Starsky would show him.

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_Fifty Bucks_

Huggy finds it funny the way they dance around each other. Not in the sense that they _actually_ dance, of course, because they do that anyway. But the subtle hints they seem to ignore -- or choose to ignore -- and the way that everyone but them seems to know exactly what's happening but won't let on because they're having too much fun watching. The way Hutch will touch the small of Starsky's back. And the way that Starsky doesn't notice that he shivers whenever it happens. Huggy wishes they would notice soon. Otherwise he owes Captain Dobey fifty bucks by Friday.

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_One Word_

"If a picture is worth a thousand words, then a word is worth a thousand pictures."

Starsky's reasoning has yet to make sense to Hutch. And he truly doesn't believe it ever will.

"You're talking out your ass again, Starsk," the blonde informs him lightly as he leans back in his chair. Starsky only smiles that smile -- that certain curving of the lips that is pure Starsky fashion. Without a second thought, he drops his feet from the desk and stands, sauntering towards him slowly. And it takes only one word in Hutch's ear to have his face burning crimson.

AN: Questions? Comments? Vague disregard for any or all words written and established in the mind of one who has no sanity?

Well, there you have it. I just had to post these so I could get them out of my notebook. I hate it when things sit and fester. They lose their glamor after a while. Later, Gators! Catch you on the flip side.


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